


Take Your Time

by cametobuyplums



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Domestic Violence, Drinking, F/M, Mild Smut, Protective Bucky Barnes, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-15
Updated: 2019-01-15
Packaged: 2019-10-10 15:26:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17428562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cametobuyplums/pseuds/cametobuyplums
Summary: Bucky braves a bar in Bucharest, unknowingly changing his life forever.





	Take Your Time

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, loves. This one shot is inspired by the song Take Your Time by Sam Hunt. I thought it fit Bucky perfectly, particularly during his venture to Romania. 
> 
> Please leave feedback, I love hearing your thoughts!

He had never been this far before. Perhaps far was too strong of a word, it was, after all, only across the street. And yet, to Bucky Barnes, it was as far as crossing the Pacific Ocean.  His heart was hammering like a freight train at full speed, threatening to burst out the confines of his ribcage as he placed a hand on the door. It wasn’t too late to change his mind, to turn around and run across the street and up the winding stairs back into the safety of the tiny apartment he was renting. But he willed his feet forward, not keen to spend yet another long night in the fragments of his lonely, jumbled mind.

Eleven months, two weeks and three days. That was how long Bucky had been on the run, never staying in one place long enough to feel comfortable. As pieces of his former self began making appearances, his uneasiness grew, fearful that he would be caught or worse, that he would lash out on innocent civilians. It was much safer to stay on the move.

Washington DC seemed a world away from the bustling streets of Bucharest. The more distance he could put between himself and the man named Steve Rogers, the better.

The stench of cheap liquor and sweat hit him first, a few curse words and drunken chortles ringing through the air, punctuating the steady pounding of music. Bucky’s face involuntarily scrunched at that. He wasn’t sure what music he _did_ like, but it certainly wasn’t whatever that awful electronic wail was. The other patrons didn’t seem to mind much, too consumed in their beer to notice the man in a black baseball cap tentatively taking a seat closest to the door. He was so engrossed in scoping out an exit strategy, two or three in fact, that he didn’t notice her until she was waving her hand in front of his face.

Bucky jerked, trying to push down his instinct to throw his left fist at the sudden disturbance. She didn’t recoil. She didn’t even flinch. She held up her hands, as if to surrender, and then she smiled and he swore his heart stopped.

“What can I get you?”

They were only five words, words she said to everyone who walked through the door but to Bucky they were the sweetest five words he had ever heard. There was kindness in her voice, something he hadn’t heard in a long time. There was warmth in her bright brown eyes, and a hardness that came from dealing with the men she encountered there in that dingy bar no doubt, but she didn’t let her experience deter her from putting on a brave face. She repeated her question, and some part of his brain vaguely registered it, the other part focused on the way she tucked a piece of dark brown, almost black hair behind her ear. Her quiet giggle brought him back to earth, and she placed a water stained glass in front of him.

“You look like a whiskey kind of man.” she said, filling the glass with murky brown liquid.

Bucky didn’t say a word, merely placing down a note which she stowed in the cash register, pushing a few coins back to him in return. He nodded his thanks and dipped his head, watching from the corner of his eye as she slid around the counter. Still anxious of his surroundings, he glanced around the bar, only then noticing that there was another man watching her too.

Something about him made Bucky’s stomach swirl with uneasiness. He was tall, conventionally handsome with his roguish features and muscled arms. Perhaps not as built as himself, but enough to exude a kind of commanding power. The man whistled as she passed him, and the prettiest blush blanketed her cheeks.

Bucky quickly gulped down his whiskey, leaving a few coins on the counter as a tip before scarpering. His panting subsided when he bolted his front door shut. Silently stalking to his window, he peeled back the tiniest scrap of newspaper, enough to allow him a view of the bar. He stood that way for hours, the uneasiness rising again when she closed the bar a little after midnight, the man from earlier leaning on a lamppost and approaching her as she double checked the lock. She walked down the road, him right by her side.

Bucky went back to the bar every night. Bucky let her pour him that whiskey that tasted of dog piss every night. Bucky watched that man every night. Bucky learned that his name was Leon, that he ran a few local businesses and that he thought that gave him the right to whatever he wanted, her included. He would whistle at her, like she was his pet, and she would dutifully drop whatever glass she was polishing and scurry over with beers for him and his friends. He would playfully slap her ass, and Bucky’s fists would clench at her little squeak. She made the mistake of grabbing his wrist once, the thunderous look in Leon’s eyes promising punishment.

The following night, she wore long sleeves and a high-necked top. Bucky observed how she seemed constantly on edge. Leon wasn’t there that night, apparently away on business. Although, according to the men whispering in the corner, business was a pretty blonde half his age. Bucky kept quiet, as was his custom, but there was a loud crash as she slipped on some spilt beer behind the bar, her tray of glasses smashing to smithereens around her.

It was her quiet sob that did it, and in an instant, Bucky was behind the bar, on his knees and checking her over for any cuts. Seeing none, he felt relief wash over him.

“Don’t move.” he said quietly.

She watched, stunned, as he picked up the large shards of glass and threw them in the trash. He brushed the dusting of debris off her and held out his right hand, his heart thumping erratically as she took it weakly and heaved herself up. There were red rims under her eyes, tear tracks down her cheeks but she smiled at him. Bucky meant to leave her alone after that, but he couldn’t help but blurt out his concern.

“Are you alright?” he asked hoarsely.

“Yes.” she replied, the lie falling easily from her lips. “Thank you.”

“Good.”

Bucky didn’t know what to say after that. It had been a while since he’d talked to a woman, a very pretty one at that. She seemed to sense his nervousness, wiping her hands on her jeans and reaching for a glass.

“It’s on the house.” she said. “Please, it’s the least I can do for your help.”

Bucky wasn’t sure how it happened, but from then on, he was there every night, particularly the nights that Leon wasn’t. He would come in when her shift started and she would pour him a glass of whiskey (he was used to the god awful taste by now). He came to know that she was studying literature and possessed a certain fondness for books. He was enthralled by the way she talked about them so amorously, unable to help but smile like a fool when her eyes lit up and her hands gestured wildly as she told him about her latest read. She would ask about his life too, but he always diverted, bringing the conversation back to her.

One night, a group of drunken men approached her just as she stepped out into the night and locked the bar door. Bucky was right there, sending the men packing with one loud growl and a look that threatened to rip them from limb to limb. He cursed silently, sure she would be terrified when he turned back around to face her. The look of safety and comfort caught him by surprise, as did the words that tumbled from his mouth.

“Can I walk you home?”

“Yes, please.”

It became another one of their rituals, until one night, when she didn’t show up at the bar and Bucky felt his heart race with the panic. Leon was in his usual spot, front and centre of the bar, jeering with his friends and talking obscenely about his latest conquest. Bucky turned on his heel and walked back out the bar, only realising where he was when his knuckles poised above her door. He heard the shuffle of her feet, the door opening a crack and the left side of her face peeking through.

“Bucky?”

“You didn’t show up for your shift.” he said lamely.

When she remained silent he shifted awkwardly on his feet.

“I was worried.” he confessed, not meeting her eyes.

She seemed to mull over his words for a minute, before the door closed and there was a screech of metal, before she pulled it open again and allowed him entrance.

Bucky had never been in her apartment before. It was small, only a studio, but it smelt like peonies, honey and her. He had never felt so at home somewhere. Then she stepped into the light of the lamp and something in him snapped. A great purple bruise crowned her eye, her bare arms scattered with yet more scrapes and bumps, red finger shaped marks still visible on her neck. Anger boiled in his veins, but then he saw that she was shaking, and his face softened.

“Please don’t hurt him.”

Bucky would never understand why she would ask such a thing when he had left her in such a state, but he respected her wishes, instead drawing her into his arms, his heart swelling when she sighed and nuzzled into the material of his red henley, inhaling deeply in his scent. Discovering the remnants of dried blood, he lead her to the bathroom and sat her on the edge of the tub as he hunted down a cloth and dampened it with warm water. She winced as he gently wiped away the blood, her eyes watching him closely.

Bucky froze when she leant forward and pressed her lips to his. It was a soft kiss, a quick kiss, giving him only enough time to register the brush of her lips against his. He drew back, shaking his head.

“I can’t.” he croaked. “You’re hurting. I’d be taking advantage.”

She nodded, taking his hand in hers and pressing it to her cheek. His heart twinged again when she closed her eyes, her shoulders sinking as she relaxed at the feel of his calloused fingers. When her eyes snapped open and dropped down to his lips, he felt his resolve weaken.

She kissed him again, more convincingly than before and Bucky felt his lips move of their own accord, seemingly knowing exactly what to do. Her scent enveloped him and left his brain foggy. She shuffled along the rim of the tub, desperate to be close to him and he stood up, his mouth still on hers as she pulled him towards her bed. She shed his jacket along the way and Bucky sighed as his baseball cap followed suit, her delicate fingers carding through his long hair.

He panicked when she made to remove his henley, but he obliged at her sweet nothings. He was sure she would send him packing when she discovered what lay beneath, but she only gazed curiously at his metal arm and sensing his discomfort, pressed featherlight kisses to the scars on his shoulder where skin had been crudely fused with the prosthetic. He in turn kissed every bruise and every mark that idiot of a boyfriend had dared to leave on her body. She felt so fragile beneath him, wrapping her legs around his waist as he made love to her. Only when they lay in each other’s arms, basking in the afterglow did he let himself acknowledge that he loved her.

Bucky’s bubble was soon burst when she turned up on his doorstep one day, eyes filled with terror and excitement, as she revealed that she was pregnant. His world knocked out of orbit, he shut himself away from her. He wasn’t meant to get attached. He wasn’t meant to be a part of someone’s world. Especially not when that someone was so pure and perfect and deserved better than him.

From the window of his poky apartment, Bucky watched as her belly swelled. She continued to work her shifts at the bar, and he heard Leon accompany her home every night, boasting that he had an heir to his empire on the way. He felt the deathly silence when he snuck into the hospital, Leon asking why his son had such a particular shade of blue for his eyes. She had quickly quelled his fears, citing that all babies were born with blue eyes.

When she fell asleep that night and Leon retreated back to the bar, Bucky crept into the room and over to the crib at her side. The baby bore a striking resemblance to her, and he felt his heart sink into his stomach because he would never know his son. It was probably for the best; how could a monster like him ever be a father? Shedding a tear for the life he would never have, he pressed a finger to the baby’s palm and felt his heart clenched as the tiny fingers closed around his.

“He has your eyes.” came her quiet voice.

Bucky whipped around to see her watching him, adoration etched on her tired face. She sat up slowly, and picked the baby out of his crib, shushing him when he stirred. Then she looked up at him.

“Would you like to hold James?”

“J-James?” whispered Bucky, eyes dropping to the baby she rocked in her arms.

She nodded, and Bucky’s arms jerked.

“I don’t know how.” he admitted sheepishly.

She beckoned at him to sit down by her, and she showed him how to cradle his arms. Despite Bucky’s protests that the arm could hurt the baby, she laid James there anyway, his head supported in the crook of Bucky’s elbow. The sudden change woke James, and he looked up at Bucky with bleary eyes. As tears fell from his eyes, Bucky knew just as well as she did, that it was only a matter of time.

That time came too quickly. Bucky was sulking around the suburbs of Bucharest, hands deep in his pockets and head bowed low. That was when he heard it, Leon’s cursing and her screams. The door of a blue house crashed open and she came running out, her hair flying wildly behind her and the baby carrier in her outstretched arms. She placed it carefully into the front seat of her battered car and no sooner had she shut the door that Leon pounced, slamming her against the bonnet and wrapping his hands tightly around her throat.

Bucky growled and ran as fast as his legs would take him, tackling Leon to the ground and breaking his nose with an almighty punch. Leon yelled her name repeatedly, trying to throw him off but she had crawled into the car already and Bucky threw his fist into the vile man’s stomach and Leon doubled over. Panting, Bucky sat up on his knees in time to see her drive off, taking their son and his heart with her.

**Author's Note:**

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> 
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